


THINGS THAT ARE BAD FOR ME

by cailures



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cailures/pseuds/cailures
Summary: JON GOES TO WINTERFELL AND COMES BACK TO TORMUND WAITING FOR HIM IN HIS CHAMBER.





	THINGS THAT ARE BAD FOR ME

**Author's Note:**

> FOR #17
> 
> MY FIRST TRY AT GAME OF THRONES FIC AND PORN SO I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE.

Jon rubbed his hands together as he approached the Wall. He’d gone to Winterfell to see Sansa and to do some recruiting for material and men. His recruiting hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped but he hadn’t had very high expectations in the first place; the people of the north wanted to focus on rebuilding and securing their independence. The Wall, as it had been before and likely in the future, would be ignored as a necessary remnant of a past that the people preferred to forget about. The few scraggly men Jon had been able to scrounge up were men who had no other options and desperate men made lackluster recruits.

Sansa had been happy to see him. Jon knew that Sansa thought the time between his visits was too long and the amount of time he stayed in Winterfell too short but she hadn’t pressed him on it despite her inclination for him to be near. Jon preferred to stay further north anyway; Winterfell had ceased being home to him long ago and he felt oppressed by the spirits that haunted him there. The dead in their crypts and their secrets always seemed like they were closer to coming to life to throttle him and the world, even more so now than when the dead had risen to fight the living.

“I don’t know why you don’t stay longer. Northerners don’t care about what the Southrons think about you.” Sansa had asked him as he saddled up his horse in preparation to leave. She had come out to oversee the arrangements for the timbers, tools, and other raw materials needed in the seemingly endless rebuild of Castle Black and the other outposts that had been destroyed during the White Walker’s attacks.

“Winterfell is your home. The Wall and the land beyond it is mine.”

Sansa had given him a long look but said nothing more on the subject. Instead she focused her attention on making sure that he had all he needed, apologizing for the lackluster quality of some of the tools and timbers and noted that she had been unable to get a shipment of good Dornish wine in time for his visit. Jon smiled and thanked her anyway. He knew a cart with the luxury goods would soon make its way to Castle Black. Sansa would claim that it was for all the men there but Jon knew she did it more for his sake than any of the men at the Wall.

“You’re always welcome to visit at the Wall, Sansa. You are the Queen.” Jon said as he mounted his horse and signaled his men that it was time to depart.

Sansa laughed. “It might cause a bit of jealousy. I hear there are some who demand your attention far more than I do. You should be more careful about how you show your favor.” She said, keeping her voice low so that others could not hear their conversation.

Jon raised an eyebrow but had said nothing else. He knew the men complained about his “closeness” with certain Wildlings but he hadn’t anticipated that their complaints were loud enough for even the Queen to hear about what he considered private business. Jon’s obvious discomfort caused Sansa to smile slyly, which made Jon feel even more uncomfortable. Thinking about that smile now that he was far away from Winterfell made Jon shiver slightly under his heavy coat. It was a smile that seemed to say “I know more than you want me to know” and Jon didn’t want to probe further. He knew Sansa had her fingers in many, many, pies in the North (as a good Queen should, he thought) and he preferred not to know which ones she’d poked at the Wall.

As the train of men and supplies approached the Wall, Jon sent one of his more trusted captains ahead to inform the men at Castle Black that they would be back shortly and to prepare for their arrival. “Let them know that we have 10 new men and to have supplies ready for them” Jon told his messenger. Sending someone ahead would shorten the amount of time needed to get the ragged bunch of new men uneasily settled or so Jon hoped. He had other things he wanted to do instead but his overriding sense of duty (a Stark trait that no amount of time beyond the wall had managed to fully diminish) would not allow him to relax until he had at least told these new recruits what awaited them.

“You will father no children and you will take no wives; the men here will become your new family. Training will start in the morning.” Jon turned towards his left and signaled to the man standing there to show the new men to their sleeping quarters. None of them had shown much promise when challenged by senior men to combat but that didn’t matter much to Jon; as he had once been told, most men at the wall had no formal training and those that may have had some would do best to hide their skills. He made his way through a small crowd of captains and rangers who were planning to divvy up the new recruits. Jon was actively trying to dodge the maester and stewards looking for him to give orders regarding the supplies, rangers who wanted to talk about the problems beyond the wall, and anyone else who looked to find him for whatever reason. It had been almost 3 weeks since he had been in his own space and he was looking forward it. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth once he got to the entrance of his chamber and opened the door.

A giant hand clapped down on his shoulder and pulled Jon into a tight, rib crushing, embrace.

“Good to have you back.” Tormund boomed once he let Jon go, a giant smile cracking across his face.

“What are you doing in here?” Jon asked and he went around Tormund to the table in the center of the room. He tossed his satchel bag on it and pulled off his cloak and jacket, generally acting as though Tormund wasn’t in the room.

“You’re acting like a pissy baby, I was trying to be nice.” Tormund said. He pulled a chair away from the table and lazily plopped down on it. Jon noticed Tormund rummaging around in his giant coat so it wasn’t exactly a surprise when something heavy slammed on the table and a slosh of fermented milk splashed on to the table and on to Jon’s bag. “I brought back the good drink from the giants. It’ll get you right.”

“There’s no point in arguing with you, is there?” Jon asked with small smile. He already knew the answer but felt like asking anyway, if only to get a reaction. They both enjoyed poking at each other when they saw each other again after being apart for a while. It had only been about 6 weeks or so since they’d last seen each other; Tormund had gone off beyond the wall on what he called “personal business” and Jon had left for his Winterfell sojourn a few days after. Yet once Tormund was with him again Jon had a sudden realization that it felt as though it had been much longer since they were last together. Once again he had been oblivious.

Tormund let out a loud belly laugh and waved Jon over to his side of the table. “If you want to fight it’s more fun to do it drunk.” He bellowed as he took a long, drawn out, drink from his horn. Drinking from a tankard or cup or glass was not for Tormund but Jon hadn’t embraced drinking the horn, despite embracing so much else. As he walked to where Tormund was seated Jon grabbed a small glass off the mantle of the fire place. He also couldn’t drink as much as Tormund, no matter how he tried; Jon supposed that being breast fed by giants gave one a higher tolerance for the less potent alcohol he had grown up with. Taking a seat on Tormund’s right he reached over and poured himself some drink.

“How did your business go?”

“Well. Got my drink and got my fucking.”

Jon raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Tormund had told him once that he had a woman in his home area and he hadn’t pried further into it. What woman Tormund had back home didn’t need to know what he got in to when he was visiting Jon at the Wall. Like Sansa didn’t need to know what Jon got to doing in his free time.

Tormund noticed Jon’s look and gave one back at him. “She asked and I don’t turn a woman down when she’s asking for my cock.” Tormund took another swig of his drink. “I don’t turn down most that ask.” Another pointed look at Jon made him squirm a little in his seat and take a drink of his own. It wasn’t very fair of Tormund to put his screws in so early.

Jon reached down the table and grabbed his satchel. Opening it up he pulled out a bottle and handed to Tormund. “It’s a gift from Sansa.” Now it was Tormund’s turn to feel uncomfortable and Jon would have been lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit of glee at getting him back.

“That sister of yours has too many ears too many places.” Tormund muttered but he accepted the gift anyway and opened it up. The sweet smell of something rich, expensive, and far more exotic than Dornish wine floated up. It almost filled the room. Jon assumed that Sansa had gotten it from Arya, although how Arya had gotten it to Sansa was a mystery to him. Jon found a small note stuck to the bottom of the bottle – clearly it had been written for him since Tormund couldn’t read.

_I hope you find this useful in your “personal matters”. Arya says they use it for such things in the free cities in Essos. Give Tormund by greetings._

Jon felt his face flush after he read the message. The note wasn’t exactly explicit but it said enough for Jon to agree with Tormund’s assessment. Too many ears in too many places indeed. A quick glance around the room to ease his paranoia that perhaps Arya had snuck in and Jon tossed the note in the fire. He hadn’t even noticed that Tormund had started it up for him until then and it made him feel a little bad.

“What did that paper say?” Tormund asked and Jon snapped out of his initial embarrassment.

“Nothing, just that it’s special wine from the east. Arya sent it.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

“Fine, give it to me and I’ll show you.”

Jon snatched the bottle out of Tormund’s hand and took a drink. It was sweet but had a strange almost metallic aftertaste to it. He wasn’t sure if it was the mystery wine or the fermented milk but within a few moments his entire body felt warm. Too warm. The fire seemed to radiate an uncomfortable amount of heat and sweat began to bead on Jon’s skin. A pleasant fuzz began to build up along with the warmth and flooded over him like waves of warm water.

Jon stood up to strip off his damp vest and shirt. He wanted to keep the pants on for now. A cascading river of thoughts and feelings ran through him but the most prominent that floated to the surface was an overwhelming feeling of contentment. He looked at Tormund and laughed at his expression. With his bushy beard and bushy eyebrows, Tormund’s cocked eyebrows and downturned mouth looked both comforting and strangely funny at the same time to Jon.

“What is in this drink?” Tormund’s voice was a little quiet, almost muffled like it had been wrapped up in the furs he had discarded. Jon hadn’t noticed that Tormund had taken a drink from the Essos bottle as well. “The walls are fucking breathing.”

A technicolor dream unfolded in front of Jon’s eyes as his laughter subsided and he looked at Tormund. The red in his hair shifted between gold and crimson, the body of the giant melted in to the walls that seemed to bleed ocher and stones the color of a clear blue skye, and the table underneath Jon’s hands became a bright purple color he’d never seen in life. The walls and the floor slipped around him and for a moment he thought he could feel the scales of a dragon sprout on his skin. Taking his eyes off Tormund, Jon looked at his hands and pulled the sleeves of his shirt up to be sure that he wasn’t actually turning into a dragon as some sort of eternal punishment served to him by those who held the Dragon Queen in their memory. An unpleasant wave of emotion hit him then, bringing him sharply out of what had been a strange but enjoyable experience so far.

“Are you alright, Jon?”

Tormund’s giant hand came out the darkness and grabbed Jon’s face. He pushed up Jon’s chin and Jon stared in to the still color shifting eyes of Tormund. A calloused thumb dug in to the side of Jon’s mouth and moved over his lips. Then, as suddenly as he had grabbed Jon’s face, Tormund let go. The suddenness of it all was too much for Jon to handle. A strangled cry that turned into hysterical laughter came out of his mouth and he slid out of his chair on to the floor.

Tormund followed him down to the floor. He had fallen when he’d gotten out of his char to yank Jon off the floor. Tormund rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Jon stared at him and decided that it also would be better to lie down on the floor as well. He unsteadily crawled next to the giant and flopped on his back as well. The ceiling seemed like it was endlessly above them, babbling nonsense about the past.

“That fucking ceiling won’t shut up.”

“It’s seen a lot so it has a lot of stories I reckon.”

Jon rolled up on to his elbow and looked over Tormund. He had his eyes closed and a crooked smile on his face. “What’s it telling you?”

“That you wank too much. What do you hear it telling you?”

“That I wank too much.”

Tormund laughed and opened his eyes. With a waggle of his eyebrows he rolled over to face Jon and brought his face close up to Jon’s. The visions and voices had started to dim by now and Jon was left with that initial flush of warmth. Without a warning Tormund gave Jon a deep kiss.

“Like I said, I don’t turn down anyone who asks.”

“I want your cock.”

With that they scrambled up off the floor and stumbled into Jon’s bed. Their remaining clothing came off as their bodies rubbed against each other in a desperate search for more friction and more feeling. In what felt like minutes but in reality only took a few seconds Tormund had rolled Jon onto his back and hunched over him, grasping Jon’s cock in his large hands.

“You can touch it, it doesn’t bite.” he softly said and Jon’s hand reached down to find the giant’s erection. He took a quick glance down and noted that the pubic hair was as red as all the other hair on Tormund. It was also larger than Jon had imagined in all his furious wanking. Jon moaned as Tormund’s skilled hands moved up and down his shaft, changing the pressure and the direction whenever it suited him. Jon tried to match but was too caught up in his own sensations; his reach was also a bit too short to more than rub the head anyway.

Jon came far too quickly for his liking. With a sheepish gin he looked Tormund in the face and apologized for getting caught up early. Tormund softly laughed. “You’re too green at it, that’s why. The young ones always are too quick.” He straightened himself out and got on his knees, his cock pointing up towards his belly and glistening. A memory of a night in a cave came back to Jon and he made his way over to Tormund.

“Lay down. It’s my turn.”

Tormund got on his back and Jon pushed apart Tormund’s legs. Still on his knees, Jon nudged his way in between and bent over to take Tormund’s cock in his mouth. A groan and a pair of large hands coming down on top of his heads let Jon know that he was on the right track. It was too big to take all the way but Jon did his best, varying the speed and strength of his sucking. With his left hand steadying him on the bed Jon began to use his right hand to stroke and grasp the shaft as he sucked Tormund’s cock. It was sloppy and clumsy but Tormund didn’t seem to mind as he groaned. Jon had expected more talk but the mystery wine and the giant’s drink had taken all the talk out of Tormund, leaving him only his hands and hips and groans to guide Jon on his cocksucking journey. A journey that paid off with a loud, deep, cry before Tormund came in his mouth.

Sweaty and satiated Jon rolled over Tormund’s left leg and on to his back. Staring at the ceiling he heard Tormund begin to snore and Jon smiled. He supposed he’d have to send a thank you note to Sansa in morning.


End file.
